


The Bell Over the Door

by bluebeholder



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Dates, Books, F/M, Kissing in the Rain, Modern Thedas, Romantic Fluff, bookstore owner solas, shipper friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28773252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Solas leads a quiet life, running an out-of-the way bookstore. He has few friends and, most days, sees no one. That's just the way he likes it.Until a Qunari walks through his door and turns his life upside down.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Solas (Dragon Age)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adrift_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/gifts).



> We all need some happiness right now. And considering the 50,000-word-plus tragedy I'm working on, these two need a break. 
> 
> So: enjoy a trip down fluffy, modern-AU lane.

The proprietor of Arlathan Books fell into that class of bookseller who kept a store, not for any kind of profit, but as an overflow space for their personal library. This particular store occupied a narrow building squeezed between a house that had been “FOR RENT” for the last ten years and a diner whose chef was from Starkhaven, resulting in a permanent, vague smell of fish over the whole block. 

The bookstore made a token nod to the modern world, with a few “Kirkwall Times Bestsellers” on display, and several stacks of advance reading copies of books that never saw wide acclaim on sale for just a few coins. The yellowing lightbulbs were ancient, though the place’s electricity was up to date to prevent fires. Otherwise, the place was a labyrinth of tilting shelves that smelled of old paper and ink, not a single book under the age of thirty on display. 

An average browser would have been immediately put off by the chaos. Aged science fiction novels from the Anderfels sat side by side with first-edition translations of Dalish epic poems and three-hundred-year-old folios of Orlesian operas. The Dewey Decimal System would have run away if someone had asked its assistance in sorting all the books out.

As a result, very few people bothered to come by the store, and even fewer bothered to purchase anything. A polite mutter or two and they’d flee, looking for brighter and slightly more organized stores. On most days, the dusty bell over the door hung silently, gathering dust. 

Which was exactly how Solas liked it.

-

He was in the back reading on a quiet Tuesday afternoon when the door opened. Before Solas could even look up, there was a shout, a small crash, and a series of violent expletives. Then silence, except the merry jangling of the door bell.

Slowly, he came out to the front, looking over the counter. In the doorway was a towering Qunari woman, over seven feet tall and built like the statue of a hero, wearing the ugliest red-and-yellow checked coat Solas had ever seen, whose horns were tangled in the string of the bell. She let out a surprised squeak on seeing Solas, cheeks dark.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

So much for a quiet afternoon.

“Let me get a ladder,” Solas said.

In the course of getting the very flustered woman free, it transpired that her name was Kubide Adaar, she found his store on accident, she was looking for a gift for a friend, and she was absolutely, positively, certainly not going to look at any other store.

“Josie loves old books,” Kubide said, looking over Solas’s head toward the back. Wisely, considering the low ceiling and narrow aisles, she made no move to go herself. “So...”

“What kind?” Solas asked with a heavy sigh.

“Biographies,” Kubide said. “Not my thing, but she loves them.”

Solas glanced back. “Wait here,” he said. 

He had heard what he was about to do termed a ‘fuck-off price.’ Name too high a value and someone might be scared off. He hoped that this book, a reasonably rare biography of Kordilius Drakon by a Tevinter magister in the Glory Age, would be too expensive for this woman to buy.

She bought it.

“Thank you,” Kubide said fervently, as Solas, dumbfounded, passed her the paper-wrapped book. “I’ll be back next time I need a book.”

Oh, how he hoped she wouldn’t be.

-

A week later she was in front of the counter again. 

“You came back,” Solas said, looking up at her in some shock.

“Josie loved the biography,” Kubide said, smiling. It was infectious. Solas felt a smile—the first he’d worn in a while—tugging at his mouth. “Her boyfriend was very taken with it—he loves old books.”

“And I suppose he wants one?”

Kubide looked sheepish. “He didn’t exactly ask,” she said. “Blackwall runs a bakery though, and I thought maybe an old recipe book...?”

“Do I look like I stock cookbooks?”

Kubide looked around. “I honestly have no idea what might be lurking here,” she said. “You might have the original Canticle of Shartan, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

It was a third edition, actually.

“I must admit, I’m surprised anyone outside the University or Chantry is familiar with the Canticle,” Solas said.

“It made more interesting reading in high school than whatever the Sister assigned us,” Kubide said, and grinned. “I was a bit of a rebellious kid. They cut it out of the Chant? I’d better read it!”

Solas shook his head. “I can imagine it.”

And he could: a young woman, too tall for the desk, ignoring the preaching Chantry Sister, in favor of reading a forbidden book that made her eyes shine with the same delight he saw in front of him now.

“I do have a few old recipe books,” Solas admitted. “Wait here. I’ll have to look.”

-

Three weeks. 

In a row.

“It’s my dad’s birthday,” Kubide said, leaning on the counter with both elbows, legs crossed. Though the counter barely came up to her waist, she made the lean look easy and elegant. 

“You have quite the collection of bibliophiles around you.”

Kubide laughed. “Yes, I do,” she said. “My dad’s a poet.”

Solas raised his brows. “A Qunari poet in Skyhold?”

“Parents were asylum seekers,” Kubide explained easily, though there was a tightness around her eyes. “Dad’s retired and writes essays and poetry for a Tal-Vashoth publication now.”

“I see,” Solas said.

“Anyway,” she said, “I was wondering if you had any elvhen poetry around. He’s trying to branch out.”

“Do you want the short list or the long one?” Solas asked, pointing back at the shelves. “I have many examples, from rediscovered Dalish poetry to the more modern classics—“

Kubide interrupted him. “You could just show me,” she suggested. “I promise to be careful of the lights.”

Solas stood up. “Follow me,” he said and, over his shoulder, “How much of the language does your father speak?” 

When he looked, Kubide had her hands in her pockets, looking at the books on either side with great interest. Her shoulders nearly brushed the shelves. “He has an app,” she said.

Solas stopped in his tracks. Kubide nearly ran into him. “An app?”

“I thought I might get him a book to—to work up to,” Kubide said.

Up close, in the faded light of the bare bulbs, Solas could see that her irises were truly yellow, startling against black sclera. “I have a better idea of what you need,” he said, and turned away. “This way.”

-

In over a decade of owning this store, Solas never had a regular. Three or four antique dealers who appeared a few times a year, but never someone who came by week after week. And certainly never someone who seemed to want to see Solas more than his books.

He was getting used to hearing the bell jangle every Tuesday when Kubide arrived. The conversations at the counter got longer each week. 

It was “my friend Dorian, from Tevinter, he wants some book on magic in Old Tevene and I thought you’d have a lead.” Then it was “Josie is looking for a biography of Genitivi and I thought of you.” Then “I want to get something for Vivienne, I wondered about Orlesian literature.”

And then, finally, “I need something to read for myself, do you have suggestions?”

Solas did not tell her that he had already set something aside for her.

“You are monolingual?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And you enjoy nonfiction.”

“Yeah.”

“Your feelings on mythical creatures?”

“Isn’t that fiction?”

“Not if it’s an exploration of legends framed through a modern anthropological lens.”

“...hit me.”

It was a book on dragons. The profusion of myths across Thedas, the connections between such myths and the possible grains of truth, comparisons to what was actually known about the habits and biology of living dragons. A bit dry and dated, but Solas acquired it for the incredible illustrations, color plates, and extensive marginalia left by the previous owner. 

“Did you write all these?” Kubide asked, leafing through the book.

“No,” Solas said. “They are part of its charm.”

“Wait, this is your book?”

“All of these are mine,” Solas said, waving a hand. “I acquire what interests me and sell part of the stock.”

“I can’t possibly—“

“Yes, you can.”

-

“Checkmate,” the Iron Bull said.

Solas started and looked down at the board. It was, in fact, checkmate. He sighed. “You win.”

The Iron Bull looked hard at him, eye narrow. “Making rookie mistakes,” he said. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Solas said, looking away. 

This was the single event of his social calendar: weekly chess club hosted by the local game store, who rented out their large back room to all sorts of people. Miniature war games that took up half an acre, roleplaying game guilds, strategic card players...and chess. It was a motley crew. Two players—Dorian, who played in Tevinter for several years, and the Iron Bull, whose history with the game was obscure—were ranked masters. The rest were hobbyists, new players, participants through the local lyrium rehabilitation program, or Solas.

Cullen turned from his game with Dorian. “You lost?” he asked, in some surprise.

“It happens to all of us,” Dorian said, and moved a knight. “Check.”

“He’s got a point,” the Iron Bull said. “I can’t remember the last time you lost to anyone.”

“A first time for everything.”

Dorian leaned over as Cullen considered the board. “I still don’t understand why you don’t attend tournaments,” he said for the hundredth time. “I hate to admit it, but you could quite easily rank as a grandmaster. And they’d never see you coming!”

“I prefer a quiet life.”

Something about his tone must have hinted that more was afoot, because the Iron Bull pressed, “What’s up?”

Solas sighed. “If you must know, I am waiting to hear the opinion of a friend on a book,” he said. 

Cullen, Dorian, and the Iron Bull exchanged looks. While their skill in the game made them the only people Solas enjoyed playing chess against, it also made all three of them frustratingly good at reading him. That tended to happen, when one played games of strategy with a person so often. It had never been an issue, until now, when they were apparently seeing something unusual.

“Well,” Cullen said after a moment, “I hope they enjoy it.”

-

She rushed in five minutes before closing on Friday night. “I finished the book,” Kubide said breathlessly.

“You finished it?”

“Fast reader,” she said. 

The next words out of Solas’ mouth were inane. “Did you like it?”

He had never, in his life, asked someone if they liked a book he recommended. 

In part because he never recommended books to anyone.

Kubide’s face lit up, as if the sun walked into the store. “It was fantastic,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to see a dragon, so that...that was incredible. Even if the Qunari mythology wasn’t quite right.”

Solas leaned on the counter. “I thought it comprehensive,” he said. 

“No, the author seemed to think the necklace thing was about...showing off for a potential mate.” Kubide made a face. “I thought Mom would laugh herself sick when I told her.”

“Then what is it about?”

She told him. A colorful, animated discussion about custom, language, and myth, which lined up in interesting ways with certain elven mythologies. Solas forgot himself a little, standing there as the streetlights came on outside and the diner next door began to thrum with activity. The conversation wore on until her phone buzzed.

Looking as if she’d been shaken awake, Kubide looked at her phone. “Oh—huh, it’s almost seven,” she said, after typing off some message.

Solas looked at the clock. “I’ve kept you far too long,” he said. “I should finish locking up and let you get about your business.”

“I’m pretty sure I kept you,” Kubide said. She lingered, hands in her pockets, as Solas finished closing and put on his coat. “I know it’s ridiculously late, but would you want to continue the conversation over dinner?”

An unfamiliar warmth suffused his chest and he found himself lost for words. Solas had never been one to yearn for companionship, but—

“As long as you have no plans,” he said, “I would be glad to.”

“They can wait,” Kubide said, smiling down at him. “Anywhere you’d prefer?”

“Not next door,” Solas said with a grimace,

“Great,” Kubide said. “There’s a good Antivan place in walking distance.”

It was more running distance, since Solas had to keep pace with a much taller companion, but the conversation was very much worth it. 

Even though they were thrown out at closing time. 


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m just saying, there are good books out there that have been released in the last decade.”

“Very few.”

They sat side by side on a bench on the riverwalk, under the shade of several trees, new spring leaves rustling in the breeze. Joggers and tourists passed by, ignoring Solas and Kubide. For all the people, this felt pleasantly isolated.

Kubide, half-sprawled comfortably on the bench with her arm draped over the back, rolled her eyes. “Would you know, if you haven’t read them?”

Solas, returning his gaze to the river, took another reflective sip of tea. Still terrible. “I do keep abreast of recent releases.”

“You like science fiction,” Kubide pointed out, “and there’s a renaissance happening. Avvar writers are doing some amazing things with their traditional mythologies.”

“I’m sure you have a recommendation.”

With a grin, Kubide reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a paperback book. She dropped it on his lap. “I even brought it along for you.”

Startled, Solas set his thermos down to look at the book. Terrible cover, worse summary. As a courtesy, he opened it to at least read the first page.

When he looked up from the tale of spirits and shamans among the stars, the shadows of the trees had moved and the sun was sinking over the river.

“Welcome back,” Kubide said. 

Shaking himself, Solas closed the book. “I am sorry,” he said, “I forgot myself.”

In the late-afternoon light, Kubide looked softer than usual. She smiled. “I’m happy to hear it.”

“You are correct,” Solas admitted. “I may have...missed some things.”

“I’ve got a whole list ready for you,” she said. When Solas offered her the book, she pushed it back toward him. “Finish that one first, though.”

-

In this world Solas felt impossibly out of place. Perhaps there could have been a time when, on awakening, he might have recognized the world. He might have been able to influence it. But in this world, where magic and artifice reached impossible heights, myth and legend had no place. Magic was studied, catalogued, known as a discipline and a profession. Elves, through blood and revolution and legislation, carved a new place for themselves where their traditions were framed by modernity. No one believed in the legends of the past.

Here, the Dread Wolf was nothing.

Solas had some resources left to him and he had, with time, found a space for himself. A quiet life, where his lack of modern social graces or a citizen’s documentation would not be noticed. This building belonged to him, and with some minor magic it was not difficult to keep it mostly unnoticed by prying eyes. 

He could not understand these modern people, could not move in this fast-paced world. So he retreated from it all. Literature and books—the older the better—were an escape. Knowledge had always been valuable and that, at least, had not changed. Solas learned the new histories, absorbed new knowledge. He shunned company, aside from the silent authors who filled his shelves.

And it was enough.

Until her. 

Talking late into the night about books, or trading stories of his bookstore and her job as a building accessibility auditor for the city, or arguing the finer points of Skyhold’s politics: all were engaging. He enjoyed the time spent in her company.   


And the world seemed somehow...brighter. He paid more attention to the people in the streets, the patrons entering the store. For the first time in a very long time, Solas read modern books, with an eye toward enjoying them, instead of disliking them on principle.

When he looked, there were some good things in this world, after all. 

-

“Why choose this job?”

“I always felt out of place,” Kubide said. “Your bell wasn’t the first one I walked into. Doors are all too narrow. Ceilings too low. The inverse is true for dwarves. Stairs aren’t the right size, counters are too high. It’s a problem for disabled people, too. I was in a good position to...to advocate. Make things better.”

Solas watched her kicking a pebble as they wandered down their usual stretch of the riverwalk. “And yet you cannot accommodate everyone,” he said. “A dwarf and a Qunari have very different needs.”

“I know,” Kubide said. “The challenge is in the balance. How can you thrive in the same space as someone with completely different needs?”

“Separate spaces,” Solas said.

She paused and looked down at him. “By that logic, I should never have come into your shop.” Solas opened his mouth to speak, but Kubide went on: “If I audited your building, your door would be too narrow for wheelchair users and too short for anyone approaching my height. Your counter is too tall for a dwarf. You’ve got trip hazards everywhere with the way your shelves are built and you make no accommodation for blind patrons.”

“What is your point?”

“My point is that it’s not a bad space,” Kubide said. “I mean, I’d personally like it if you had taller ceilings. But it’s your space, and you need to be comfortable and happy there just like everyone else. So if I audited you, there would have to be a compromise. It can’t be a perfect world.”

Solas stared up at her. They’d long since stopped walking. “There must be a perfect world,” he said, “even if it is difficult to achieve.”

“There’s nothing perfect,” she said. “Just better.”

-

“Checkmate,” Cullen said.

Solas stared at the board. He’d lost. A series of novice mistakes panned out in his mind, the mistakes that led to this moment. 

“Right,” Dorian said, turning away from his game with the Iron Bull, “that’s it. I thought Bull and I were just getting better at the game, but there is no way Cullen should have won that.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t even a pity win,” the Iron Bull said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’d be offended if it was!” Cullen said, folding his arms. “I play you to study your moves and that—“

“Everyone loses sometimes,” Solas said. He waved a hand. “I was distracted.”

“Three years in this abominably-decorated house of horrors and I’ve never seen you distracted enough to lose to anyone.” Dorian stared at him. “What is happening, Solas?”

All three of them waited expectantly. 

He felt awkward and small under their gazes, but also...warmer, somehow. They were concerned for him. Worried. As friends might be. 

“Look, if you need help, I can—“ the Iron Bull started.

The words came out without intending to. “I have a date tomorrow,” he said.

“I knew it!” Cullen said. “Well done, Solas, I knew you had it in you!”

Solas wanted to be offended, but his conduct had been such that he was surprised as well. 

“I’m disappointed that you didn’t turn out to be on the run from the Carta after all,” Dorian said, and smiled. “Still, congratulations.”

“You thought I was a—“

“The only people that cagey about their pasts are in some kind of trouble,” Dorian said with a wave of his hand. “So who’s the lucky one?”

He must have been red to the tips of his ears. “You wouldn’t know her.”

The Iron Bull grinned. “So she’s not from our social circles, huh? She an elf?” 

“No,” Solas said. “Vashoth, if you must know.”

“Okay. One, you must be in deep if you’re using the right words,” the Iron Bull said, eye wide and surprised, “and, two, I really didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I,” Solas said. He turned back to Cullen. “Best two out of three?”

-

Solas straightened his jacket again, looking up at the door nervously. Kubide lived in an apartment in a neighborhood built to be accessible to Tal-Vashoth, and Solas felt as if the stairs were all a bit too high and wide, and the doorframe alarmingly tall. It was dizzying to experience. 

Beyond that, Solas wasn’t sure if this was appropriate “date” attire. What did one wear to go to dinner at someone’s house? He chose a nicer shirt than usual, found a less-than-crisp blazer, and hoped for the best.

Kubide answered the door twenty seconds after he knocked. There was a long pause as they stared at each other. She had dressed up—Solas had the impression of a blue dress, wide pleated skirt and low neckline, and of the fact that she was barefoot and had her hair pulled up. Any further attention stopped at her wide golden eyes, startled and shy. 

“You’re early,” she said. 

“I am sorry—“

“No, no, it’s fine, come in!”

Solas went inside. At her offering he did take off his shoes—utterly regretting the choice of socks, this was why he preferred sandals—followed her into the kitchen. The apartment was not large. A living room, a kitchen, a short hallway with two closed doors on a side and a half-open door to a bathroom at the end. The doors were wide, the ceilings high, and Solas suddenly understood why Kubide had a habit of hitting her horns on things, if this was the kind of space required to make her comfortable. 

“I didn’t—I forgot to ask what you wanted,” she said, turning around as they came into the kitchen. The skirt fluttered when she moved and for half a second Solas considered what it would do if she danced. 

“We have eaten dinner together before.”

Kubide’s cheeks darkened. “I made a guess,” she said, and gestured to the table, where a tray waited, cheese and fruit and other dainties artfully arranged. “I also can’t cook anything...date-worthy.. So...cheese plate.” 

Solas looked it over, then up at her. “I am sure that took as much effort as anything requiring an oven.”

She laughed, the sound filling the space, and Solas smiled. “Well. I did have to use a cookie sheet, so we could pretend I pulled it out of the oven. Please. Let’s eat.”

They were so lost in talking that Kubide would have leftovers for a week, and on his way home Solas realized he had not even considered kissing her.

-

“I didn’t expect an antique show to be this interesting,” Kubide said.

Solas looked down at her, sitting cross-legged beside a large plastic bin full of archaic kitchen implements, examining some cast-iron confection. “It can be interesting.”

Kubide looked around. Solas followed her gaze. The hum of voices filled the air of the gymnasium, the dust from the number of old and (potentially) valuable things on display whirling in the shafts of sunlight through the high windows. Solas was usually unmoved by the objects on display, but...today there was a certain thrill in looking at all of it, the potential for intrigue and treasure around every corner.

“I think it’s fun,” Kubide said.

While Solas navigated between the tables to the next bookseller, Kubide carried the large cardboard box which was already heavy with books. Most were not particularly valuable, but Solas wanted them for reasons of his own. 

“I do believe you’re showing off,” he said, when thirty books were stacked in the box and Kubide was carrying the box with one arm. 

“You asked me to carry it,” she said, smiling. “I might as well show off.”

They wandered side by side for a while, just looking. At one point Solas noticed that Kubide’s hand kept brushing his upper arm, or shoulder. He moved a little, so that she could rest her hand there, which she did.

It seemed only natural, in these close quarters, to put an arm around her waist. She made no verbal signal that she noticed, but Solas could see the radiant smile on her face. 

He thought the difference in heights would be an issue, if it came to holding hands. His head barely came to her shoulder, if that. But this was good. 

They were drawing looks, of course, some curious, some amused. Solas was sure Kubide noticed. Still, she said nothing. But her arm did slide around his shoulders, holding him closer.

Solas had a sudden sympathy for the protagonists of the romantic heroes he’d always somewhat disdained.

-

It seemed rather...final, inviting Kubide along to chess. 

Every week he was inundated with questions from the gossips he called opponents, who would not be deterred even by Solas’ most ruthless playing. The Iron Bull in particular was able to match Solas move for move without ever losing sight of convincing Solas to say something about his “lady love.”

Who was here with him tonight. 

“I’ve literally never played chess.”

“A first time for everything. Watch the door.”

Kubide ducked under the low-hanging bell. “Does everyone in this city need one of those?” she muttered.

Solas took her hand and guided her through the small maze of pewter miniatures, dice, board games, books, and paints. Most people had already arrived. Everyone knew everyone else, which meant every newcomer drew attention. It was, as Solas had learned from Kubide in the last months, even worse for a seven-foot-tall woman with horns. He expected them to stare.

He did not expect Dorian to ask, looking betrayed, “Adaar! You’re dating Solas?”

“Dorian?” Kubide looked shocked. “Bull? What the—Cullen!?”

The Iron Bull roared with laughter, pounding a fist on the table. “I knew it! I knew it!” 

Cullen shook his head. “I thought Bull was having us on,” he said.

“Is this why you all laughed when I said I was dating an elf?” Kubide demanded. 

Solas rubbed his face. “Impossible. How do you know them?”

“Where do I start?,” Kubide asked with a sigh. “Bull and I are Krav Maga instructors at the same gym, Cullen has an office three doors down from me at City Hall, and Dorian was tutoring me on magical theory while I was back for my MPA. He and Bull met through me.”

“This city only has ten people in it, I think,” Cullen said reflectively.

Solas felt like he was going to wake up from this bizarre dream any moment.

Kubide rolled her eyes. “I just never thought to ask why you three knew each other.”

“You got me a book from Solas!” Dorian said, joining the Iron Bull in laughter. “I only know one elf who runs a bookstore—“

“There’s more than one in Skyhold!” Solas says.

“—who attends chess club with me,” Dorian went on.

Cullen chimed in: “And who had a date on the exact same night you did!”

“Were you planning on telling us?” Solas asked.

The three men exchanged glances.

“Nah,” the Iron Bull said, “this is way funnier.”

-

They paid no attention to the weather that day. Kubide had been busy with work and they had only limited time. So a morning on the riverwalk it was. 

Solas idly considered the clouds as they wandered, talking. Heavy and gray, the day gloomy. No one else was out. Perhaps he should have checked the weather.

“—thought I was going to have to pull Anders off Fenris when they started talking about regulations on magic at the new service center for houseless people,” Kubide was saying. “I mean, I’m there to talk about ramps and handrails, and here’s Fenris with a treatise on why magic should be banned.”

“I would have liked to be a fly on that wall.”

Kubide laughed. “Then Anders started asking me whether mages fall under protected status as far as discrimination laws go to try to shut Fenris up. I told him it was a weird mess that he should ask legal about before asking me, but of course Wynne had to throw in her two coin—“

A raindrop hit Solas on the head.

“As entertaining as this is,” he said, “we should get out of the rain.”

More raindrops pattered down. Kubide took his hand and started pulling Solas back toward the parking lot, but Solas couldn’t keep up with her. They stumbled to a halt as the skies opened.

“Hope you left your phone in the car,” Kubide said, laughing. Rain dripped off the tips of her horns. 

“I did,” Solas said. The rain felt...surprisingly good. As if the dust of years were washing off.

She looked around. “Well. Since we’re already wet…”

“I see no reason to leave,” Solas said. “It may well clear up soon.”

“It’s really beautiful,” Kubide said, looking out at the river. Her eyes were no less bright in the gloom.

It would do no good to try anything like this. Solas pulled Kubide back and stepped up on a bench, putting him—finally—at eye level with her. “A beautiful setting for a beautiful woman,” Solas said.

“Planning something?” Kubide asked, smiling at him. She stepped closer, arms wrapping around his waist.

He answered by sliding his arms around her neck and, finally, kissing her. 


End file.
